Ego homini Lupus
by SeaFeudJagger
Summary: The burdens of a queen separated by the roles of a sibling. A spirited princess with little more innocence left to lose. A fledgling kingdom on the verge of opening itself up to a world gripped in harsh reality and wonders. Oh Daud, my old friend, what have you gotten yourself into? I suppose it doesn't matter. Either way, I do expect a good show for old time's sake.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just an idea that occurred to me a few months back that I now finally have the time to write it down on paper. My schedule's been iffy this semester, leaving me barely anytime free time for myself. I'm just glad I was able to remember this. I'm excited for Dishonored 2 and this is part of the reason why I'm writing this to celebrate the upcoming sequel of one of the best stealth games I've played since Chaos Theory and the Arkham games. I hope you guys enjoy and leave a review on what you think.**

 **I don't own Frozen nor Dishonored.**

 **WARNING: Spoilers, of course, for those who haven't played Dishonored or its DLCs**

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 _[An excerpt from Daud's personal journal]_

 _They say that second chances are reserved for those who warrant it. That amidst all the discrimination and turmoil the world is known for there exists a sliver of morality that slips through the cracks and latches on to a select few who are given prospect._

 _Corvo spared me. The man who murdered his Empress. The man responsible for his inequitable imprisonment in Coldridge under the charge of a corrupt Spymaster, together with countless other crimes. Why? He had no reason to. His actions could even be deemed justifiable if he did so. But then he didn't. Did he relent out of forgiveness? A loss of nerve? Or perhaps he decided that living with the regret was more punishment than a quick death?_

 _He couldn't have known. No, it was impossible. Not even the Outsider would fully confide to Corvo the events that transpired with the Brigmore witches. The Black-eyed Bastard would probably find it poetic that I end up this way; a blade held to my throat, within the mercy of a bodyguard-turned-assassin._ _I could've told him of what I did. Of the lengths I went through to prevent Delilah's scheme from succeeding, that I saved Emily Kaldwin from a living death. But what would that accomplish? More so or less? I've made my choices, excuses be damned. I was ready to look death in the eye and become one with the Void._

 _Even now, as I write this down aboard some smuggler's ship, the thought continues to haunt me. I might never be able to quench that flicker of curiosity, but in time I hope to come into terms with it at the very least. For now I have to make use of the chance I was given and conclude my promise to leave Dunwall for good._

 _Where do I go from here? How does someone who has made it his life's work to benefit from the misfortune of others hope to pursue an honest living? It remains to be seen. The only solace I could really gather was that I escaped with my mind and body intact, which is less than what I deserved._

~0~

The rocking of the ship's deck is comforting beneath Daud's feet and here, out on the waves, he can feel the creeping doubt fade away into the wind.

Dark-grey clouds billowed across the sky, obscuring the sun and threatening a downpour of heavy rain. It was midday, the damp-smelling air overcoming the salty scent of the sea. The waves themselves were a faulty reflection of the looming visage above. Tranquil at one moment and turning volatile the next, it was a sight that any seasoned sailor is familiar with. The inherent arrival of an oncoming storm.

Daud remained unfazed by the premonition. Leaning over the bulwark, elbows rested along the rails. He stared at the horizon, watching as the waves repeat their rhythmic pulse along a vast open space of blue and grey.

The scenery brought back repressed memories of his mother, back when he was a boy still and harsh reality had yet to taint and settle its mark upon him. He remembers that of her smell—a mixed aroma of exotic herbs she used to brew potions with that always seem to surround her, the musky zest of old books she once read to him every night before falling asleep herself.

There were momentary lapses when he would just break away from it all, when the stress and the weight of his killings seemed to consume him; seeking instead to relive that particular memory. When his mother was still alive and not some rotting corpse buried deep within the soil. Then his resolve would harden and he'd chastise himself for harboring such delusions. The past is already written, the ink dry. Wandering thoughts have no use in his line of work, where a clear head is pertinent to accomplishing a task.

Daud heaved a sigh. Stepping back, he made one last sweep of the horizon before heading towards the rear of the ship.

His soft, leather boots made little noise as he paced along the wooden floor of the deck. Around him the crew was bustling with activity. Sailors were climbing up the shrouds to unfurl the remaining sails intending to take advantage of the sudden draft of wind. Others were scrubbing dirt off the floor, managing the rigging, whilst the rest were simply lounging around grabbing a meal or sleeping. Daud made his way towards the staircase that led to the helm's platform.

He nodded to Baldwin, the barrel-chested quartermaster who was surveying the rest of the crew with a watchful eye. Stony-faced and tall, he acknowledged Daud's presence with an imperceptible nod. Standing next to him and manning the wheel was the captain of the ship, Steve Dennings.

Compared to his bulking companion, Dennings carved out an unimpressive figure. He was a stout man, with a wide, plump face, and a thoughtful expression. Dressed in a rich green waistcoat embroidered with bronze linings over a white, linen shirt and satin breeches, his countenance passes him off as more of a minor noble rather than the appraising merchant he is in actuality. The many layers of clothing, however, failed to hide the protruding belly visible beneath his overcoat.

"Ah, welcome good sir!" he greeted Daud amiably. "Come to finally join us up deck, I see."

Daud didn't reply immediately, gazing pointedly at the sky instead. "Is _that_ going to be a problem?"

"It does look rather ghastly, doesn't it?" Dennings agreed, following his gaze with some concern. "Normally I wouldn't be so anxious to engage the seas in such a way, but I've heard many a captain who've sailed aplenty that have come to meet their end here inasmuch as to their folly for underestimating the elements."

"The North Sea is as treacherous to its occupants as easily it would on a summer day," Baldwin declared in a booming voice.

"An exaggeration surely, but it does bear some grain of truth. I've once been told a rumor that a royal envoy sunk around these parts when it ran afoul a storm. Not even to kings and queens do the winds bow down to, it seems. I think it best that we tread lightly for we are mere stains compared to the likes of royalty."

"But not to worry though, I don't plan on sailing into my doom today, or any other day, really. If worse comes to worst the nearest port is only half-a-day's sail away if the winds are true." Dennings made a small gesture towards the sails, which were holding fast against the blowing wind. "And by the look of things, it seems Lady Fortune is smiling down upon us."

He gave a hearty laugh, followed by several of the crew who were stationed nearby save for Baldwin.

Daud frowned thoughtfully to himself, rubbing a gloved hand over his dark beard. Doubt continued to linger at the forefront of his mind. His thoughts catering back to the offer that was presented to him back in Ashford. Perhaps it would've been wiser if he had accepted, rather than traversing through the seas aboard some fat merchant's ship.

"Second-guessing myself? I never thought I'd see the day…" Daud muttered. But then again, it never does end in the way it was supposed to be.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigars. Not the same quality as Cullero's but better than nothing. With careful hands, he flipped open the lighter, warm light illuminating his weathered features. He moved the flame towards the cigar, drawing breath to light it. He took a long drag, ignoring Baldwin's look of disapproval as he inhaled the smoke.

Maybe when this is over I should consider governing a ship of my own, Daud mused idly tapping the cigar to loosen the stray ashes.

It wasn't an unpleasant idea. He used to work odd jobs on the ships he took voyage on during his travels across the Isles. The process of acquiring a ship alone without any sort blackmail involved will be cumbersome enough, totaled with personally garnering the men that would serve as his crew, but the payoff seemed the better prospect than having to wander around the countryside like some lost beggar.

The irony that he was entertaining the idea of leading yet _another_ group of individuals set to gain and profit from ventures while on retirement was not lost on him.

Daud took another breath of the cigar. He stood for a moment, exhaled and watched as the smoke drift through the air before tossing it overboard.

He headed below deck to the corner that was granted to him. It was gloomy and damp, the low ceiling providing little room for head space. A rusty lantern left on top of one of the keg barrels served as the only source of light in the room. The flickering flame cast faint shadows across the dark confines, highlighting the oak pillars and throughbeams. His sleeping arrangements consisted of a hammock whose both ends were tied to the opposite sides of the ceiling frame, and a berth where his baggage was laid out.

He shrugged off his wool jacket and stepped out of his boots. The hammock swayed slightly against the sudden weight as his body laid down to rest. Perhaps some shut eye would draw his mind at ease.

The few men that were dallying in the hold were oblivious to the lone figure in the shadows as it watched the man shift and turn in his makeshift bed before finally stilling. Slow, even breathing was heard moments later, signaling that he is steadily asleep. The intruder smiled and nodded as if satisfied then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2 for you guys!**

 **Again, I don't own Frozen or Dishonored.**

 **Enjoy!**

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It always starts the same.

Every mission he'd dispatched always had a sense of professionalism—filled with tension and silence that normally came with the meticulous execution of an aforementioned plan, no matter how simple the objective. Never doubt, nor second thoughts. Whenever a factor of the mission does not proceed as planned, stimulated from either faulty information or well-placed convenience, he would consider all rational alternate paths before choosing instinct over uncertainty to succeed, often delivering the killing-blow when others thought it impossible.

But even he felt the foreboding presence that lingered over what would come to be his greatest accomplishment—and his deepest regret.

He watched as Malek and Dylan continued their assault on Corvo, fighting with a ferocity undeterred by the reputation of the bodyguard. The man himself was a whirlwind as he locked swords against his best men, protecting his charge with grim determination. From the corner of his eye he saw Burrows distract the Elite Guards, alerted by the echoing sounds of gunshot, from entering the courtyard.

With merely seconds left before the assassination would be discovered, he intervened.

Blinking in front of them, he grabbed the terrified young girl by the arm before _she_ pushed him away. He slapped her back in retaliation, fingers gripping her by the throat as her daughter screamed in the background. He took a moment to examine her, noting the dark eyes trained at him filled with anger, desperation, fear—before he plunged the blade beneath her ribs.

Time slowed as he waited for the light to go out from her eyes, for her fingers to slacken from where it lay gripped around his forearm. Instead, she released her grip from his arm entirely and grasped the sides of his face, pulling him closer. Her eyes, now completely black, stared back at him impassively yet seemed to pierce right into his very being. It was like staring into the Void itself.

Then she let out a blood-curling scream...

Daud jerked awake, his arms lashing out reflexively into a defensive stance. Drenched in cold sweat, he took several deep breaths as he scanned the room for signs of intrusion. The lamp had died out hours ago, leaving the hold in a relative state of darkness. Shards of moonlight slipped through cracks in the boards that made up the ceiling, offering limited view of his surroundings. He could hear the muffled sounds of men snoring.

Reassured by the lack of immediate danger, he sat up, leaning against the wooden post where the end of the hammock was tied to and placed a palm over his damp forehead.

This was starting to become a habit, Daud thought irritated. He was used to sleeping fitfully, unsurprising given his profession; having trained for the longest time to react to the lightest of sounds and respond with extreme prejudice against the prospect of a surprise attack. Even after his departure from Dunwall, sleep had not come easily. His dreams plagued with recent events that left their scorching mark upon him, none more so than the death of Jessamine Kaldwin... by his hand.

"Why do you haunt me still, woman?" he growled into the darkness. "Haven't I've done enough for my mistakes?"

But he knew it wasn't enough, it was never enough. Delilah's defeat did not erase the thousands of lives that perished under the Lord Regent's rule. It did not compensate for the state of despair and corruption Dunwall reduced itself to in mere months, nor prevent the casualties his Whalers sustained owing to his incompetence. It did not lessen the guilt knowing that he had a crucial part in it all. His deviation was, in a way, for him to relieve himself of those acts and begin a new life without the shadow of complications his past left trailing behind him.

It was a ridiculous notion for him to think that he would escape that deterrent unscathed.

He thought so when he first entertained the idea, battered and bruised just after his duel with Corvo. Yet it provided a small sense of optimism, a mentality he never would have considered after years of the pragmatic approach he'd taken on living. But he had few options to begin with, and had to make due with the time frame he was given.

Despite Corvo's apparent decision on letting him live, Daud was not so confident to say the same for the upper echelons in Dunwall's society, especially those he'd the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with. Once Emily Kaldwin is reinstated on the throne—a fact which he had no doubt would be accomplished—the misconceptions regarding her mother's death would soon be corrected and revealed to the public. The repercussions of which would only serve to paint the ever growing target on Daud's back.

Not allowing even an ounce of leverage for those who would seek to claim his head, Daud loaded all necessary provisions with him and quickly left the capital long before its culmination was resolved.

It was during then he had reached the proverbial fork in the road. Where does he go from there?

Does he return to his homeland of Karnaca? The logical decision, perhaps. An inclination he had already pondered over several times in the months leading up to his eventual fate. Billie's message certainly ease things any further, given the many outcomes that can be drawn upon which choice he makes. It was also the predictable choice, one that will be exploited by others who will be searching for him.

Serkonos, while part of the Empire, has always been left to its own devices, its people and culture largely different to that of the Gristolians. Even if he is able to acquire a house or even land far off into the city's borders, or even construct an alias for himself, how long until he is discovered and dragged back into the fold for one reason or another?

Daud gave an aggravated sigh, easing his nerves with deep heavy breaths.

To this day he still doesn't know if he made the right decision to leave. Call it cunning or cowardice, but Daud never faced his enemies head on, not even without some semblance of a plan. Committing an error in the field was costly, especially for a man such as him. To proceed freely without knowing what to expect was an entirely foreign concept. Such idiosyncrasy made it difficult for him to make peace with his choice of heading eastwards instead of south towards Serkonos.

Realizing that sleep wasn't coming anytime soon, Daud rose from his makeshift bed. Upon strapping his boots, he made little work as he traversed through the heap of snoring bodies and cargo obstructing his path like a specter, his footsteps barely producing the slightest of sounds. Old habits die hard it seems.

Making his way up the deck he immediately noticed that the sky was calm for the first time in days, a far cry from the tumultuous condition it had been the entire trip. The sky was dark, the deck decorated in moonlight. The air retained its slight chill from earlier that night, giving the area an eerie visage with how deserted it appeared. It was silent, nearly devoid of life save from the faint glow coming from the crow's nest, whom Daud assumed to be the assigned watchman for the night.

Strangely, it reminded him of his quarters back in the Flooded District.

The Chamber of Commerce Building was the ideal hideout that he could have found; plenty of rooms for his men, the spacious lower floors perfect for the training of new recruits, its strategic location near the center of the district made it a manageable defensible position, and the library filled with packets of information suited his needs for intel gathering. Their previous hideout having been the sewers underneath Dunwall, it was a refreshing outlook taking residence in the higher floors of the building. Sections of the roof were entirely missing, turning every rainy climate an unpleasant experience. Privacy was nearly unavoidable with the flux of reports on contracts, assassinations, target sightings, and supply runs he received at a daily basis.

Still, the room served its original purpose, providing a personal residence that befitted the rank of the Whaler leader. Some nights he would stare at night sky, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lighted cigar in the other. It didn't make the restless nights any easier but it did bestow a level of comfort that Daud would almost akin to home.

"A wonderful night, is it not?" A voice said behind him.

In an instant, Daud vanished in a cloud of ash, reappearing a several feet away from where he previously stood, left arm raised in shooting stance as the wristbow spun into place. Steel-grey eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting around and taking in the surroundings, trying to find the origin of the voice. The design etched on the back of his hand glowed faintly through the leather of his glove, as if flickering with anticipation.

The frown on his face deepened further when he found no one particular in sight.

Not lowering his stance, he activated Void Gaze and looked up spotting the glowing image of the watchman on top of the mast. The man was clearly asleep judging by his relaxed sitting position, there looked to be a rag thrown over the lantern beside him, presumably to dim the lighting so as not to disturb his sleep.

Returning his gaze in front of him, there appeared to be no signs of a living person on the top deck with him. His face remained emotionless, but his mind was racing.

Could it be a stowaway assassin? No, he would have discovered something from the catalog of people Dennings's provided passage to. Even then, not even the best of his trained Whalers could manage to sneak up on him on a moment's notice. His spatial awareness was very precise. He would have noticed if someone from the hold slipped through to follow him.

Then the unbidden thought of the Marked ones surfaced at the forefront of his mind. For a moment he thought of Corvo, the image of the mangled, distorted mask stared right back at him. His fingers flexed, itching for a blade in hand at the likelihood of conflict.

No, if he _had_ come to finish the job then letting him live in the first place would have been pointless. He gave into his thoughts, try to convince himself that Corvo wasn't coming for his head, that he wasn't about to have another duel with the masked felon. That would leave the others, but he had little to no affiliation with those marked by the Outsider save for Delilah or Granny Rags, both of which are either disposed off or gone into hiding.

He sniffed the air, hoping for a sign that would hint at some kind of chemical or poison the area was doused with that is somehow causing him to hallucinate. The air was scent with the salty tang of the sea, the metallic smell of copper and iron, the musky odor of damp vegetation, and beneath it all, the sweetness of lavender. That could only mean...

Daud suddenly turned around, aiming the wristbow right at the figure standing behind him, just in time to catch the oily swirl of shadows dissipate in the air, marking the person's entrance.

"It seems your senses haven't dulled in the slightest bit," the being known as the Outsider remarked, soulless black eyes meeting his own.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Daud locked eyes with the spectral being, his jaw clenched and fingers twitching at the trigger mechanism of the wristbow. They looked at each other for what seemed like the longest time, Daud calculating the risks and likelihood of the outcome while the Outsider stood calmly at the side, arms crossed and silent, before he lowered his arm.

"What do you want?" he growled.

It irked him to no end that the Outsider could prowl up to him and bypass his heightened awareness without him noticing. That perhaps even with all the years of training under his belt the whale god could still manage to catch him unawares unless he willed it so. If he was the shadow, then the Outsider is the darkness that forms the shade.

Maybe it was to show that even with the Mark he still has little ways to go against the supernatural being. A subtle way to exhibit his eminence without coming across as arrogant.

"It has been a while, Daud," the Outsider said instead, linking his hands behind his back and walking over to the former assassin. "The last time we spoke was before you concluded your performance with Delilah. I must say I was surprised with the results, if only slightly. Has your moral compunction suited you well? You must know that what you've decided will ripple across the years, blood on the gutter and corruption on the wind. It will be an amusing sight to see once it unfolds. But enough about that. You've had an eventful year since then."

Daud turned around, refusing to answer him. The Outsider seemed amused by this, and chuckled before speaking again.

"Not a year ago you were standing in one of Dunwall's finest sought out buildings, the leader of a fearsome group of mercenaries that struck fear in the hearts of citizens both rich and poor. On top of that, you managed a feat that no single low-life individual has ever done in history: assassinate an Empress from within her own seat of power and escape unscathed. I wonder how will the Empire remember you in their history books, as the terrifying monster that parents will use to scare their children with, or a traitor that helped conceive a conspiracy that nearly toppled the foundations of their society?"

"All the tales and legends about the Knife of Dunwall, what a disquieting reputation you've built in your lifetime spent in Gristol. How disappointed will those people be when they see a shadow of a man that once haunted the pages of their history as they look at you now," he finished, almost mockingly.

"Why are you _here_?" Daud nearly snarled, not wishing to hear anymore of the nonpartisan judgment of his actions. "My story is at an end. So why do you continue to beleaguer me?"

"Where one story ends, another begins," the Outsider recited, a smirk on his face. "Your time in the Empire is done, Daud. Your subsequent choice in avoiding Serkonos only solidified that notion. However, what lies ahead of you is a path that even I didn't see coming. It will be interesting to see how you will proceed with this enigma."

" _No_! Not this time. I won't be baited into involving myself in your fallacy of an entertainment. You can't force me to—"

" _Force_ you?" the Outsider interrupted. He gave an almost sympathetic smile. "You should know by now that I have no influence regarding the actions of those who I bestow my Mark upon. I merely provide my outlook on the matter. It will be fascinating to watch how that current train of thought will soon collide with your newfound ideology. Know that whatever wreckage remains in the outcome of your excursion, it all came apart out of your own volition. Do remember, Daud, I expect a good show for old time's sake."

The Outsider's final words echoed in the depths of his mind, its resonance lasting long after he left leaving Daud dissatisfied in his wake.

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 **And there you have it. I love writing Daud, he's such an interesting character.**

 **I'm actually concerned with my description of the Outsider. He's a mysterious being with a peculiar mindset. I don't know if I'm writing him correctly with how remembered him to be in the first game (haven't played 2 yet so no spoilers). So any criticism in reviews is highly appreciated.**

 **I have about month before classes start so there's a high chance that I'll continue writing again in my other stories. I can only hope for the best.**

 **On to the next chapter! Time to head for Arendelle.**


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